


When You’re Holding Me (We Make a Pair of Parentheses)

by pancake2



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (sort of? it's not an illness but that's the vibe i was going for), Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Periods, Post-Canon, Sickfic, Trans Katsuki Yuuri, heavy on the comfort, sometimes you've just gotta work your feelings out through your faves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-12 04:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20979377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pancake2/pseuds/pancake2
Summary: Yuuri wakes to the feeling of warm sunlight spilling across his back, the distant sound of movement in the kitchen, and a slowly growing ache in his core.





	When You’re Holding Me (We Make a Pair of Parentheses)

**Author's Note:**

> <strike>aka the mcribs fic</strike>
> 
> sometimes your periods just suck so much that the only way you can feel better about it is by making one of your faves deal with it but then giving him all the love and attention you’re craving
> 
> that is to say
> 
> here’s an extremely self indulgent fic that somehow grew to 11.6k
> 
> (couple heads ups: there are some real brief mentions of blood in the context you’d expect but they’re not graphic or violent, and also i didn't touch dysphoria at all cuz that’s not my place)
> 
> (title is from [Parentheses by The Blow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xt8jq_YSyxk). which i clearly couldn’t resist using parentheses with)

Yuuri wakes to the feeling of warm sunlight spilling across his back, the distant sound of movement in the kitchen, and a slowly growing ache in his core. It takes him a solid minute to figure out what might be causing that last one, but when he does, his eyes shoot open and he’s scrambling to sit up, glancing down at the white sheets on the bed to see-

“_Fuck_,” he hisses out, his stomach doing flips as he stares at the bright red spot beneath him. The ache is still blooming inside him, stretching now to his sides and up his back. It’s been _so long_ since the last time, he’d thought he was done with this…

* * *

Victor looks up from where he’s making breakfast when he hears a loud groan coming from his and Yuuri’s bedroom. He turns to see if Yuuri has awoken, but his view is blocked by the door that is still mostly closed, exactly the way he’d left it when he’d gotten up earlier. Maybe Yuuri is just expressing his disdain for his discovery that it’s morning, but Victor can’t help but feel like he should check to see if his love is alright.

He turns the burner off and pushes the pan to the back of the stove, deciding that breakfast can wait until he’s eased that nagging feeling. He pokes his way into the bedroom to find Yuuri sitting up in bed with his face in his hands. Makkachin is wiggling about him, sniffing at the sheets.

“Yuuri, is something…” Victor begins to ask, but then Makkachin moves to leave the bed and reveals a sight that has Victor feeling himself start to go pale.

Yuuri is sitting there in their bed, the comforter shoved down to his feet, and beneath him on the white sheets is what Victor is currently racking his brain to place as anything other than a pool of his own blood.

Immediately, he’s at Yuuri’s side, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his temple as he realizes that Yuuri is shaking a little, and is probably covering his face to stop himself from crying.

“Are you okay, love?” Victor asks in the most soothing voice he can manage while he’s still trying desperately to think of any explanation that doesn’t involve Yuuri being severely injured for whatever the bright red stain on their bed sheets might be.

“I’m sorry,” is all Yuuri says back, in a harsh little whisper that Victor recognizes as one of his last attempts to stop tears from coming.

Victor hesitates to push further, because he really doesn’t want to make Yuuri cry, but the apology just adds more confusion to whatever is going on.

“I’m sure it’s not your fault, darling,” is what he finally settles on, even if he doesn’t know what _it _ is.

“But… the sheets…”

Victor blinks for a second, his brow creasing. _The sheets?_ Why are _those_ what Yuuri is so worried about?

“Sweetheart, I don’t care about the sheets, we can get new ones. I want to know if _you’re_ okay. What happened?”

“It’s nothing…”

“Is that… blood?”

Yuuri turns into Victor’s embrace at last, and nods shortly against his chest. Victor instantly hugs him tighter, even if the confirmation of that question does not exactly soothe his worries about this situation.

“Are you hurt?” he asks gently, though he’s not sure he even needs to ask if Yuuri is _bleeding_.

But Yuuri always has his ways of surprising him.

“Not… not exactly,” Yuuri shakes his head, “I mean, it _hurts_, but I’m not… _hurt_ hurt… But I just… thought I was done with this…”

That doesn’t exactly answer the questions piling up in Victor’s mind, really only adds to them, but it does give him some relief to know that Yuuri didn’t wake up suddenly suffering from some horrible sourceless injury.

“If I… if I’d known, I would have gotten us some darker sheets, I’m so sorry I ruined these ones,” Yuuri is mumbling again, unprompted. Victor can’t help but hear the way his voice catches like he’s not going to be able to suppress his tears much longer.

“It’s okay, solnyshko, really,” Victor promises him, gently circling his thumb around Yuuri’s shoulder blade. “You’re sure you aren’t hurt? How are you bleeding if you aren’t hurt?”

“Because it’s my period!” Yuuri nearly shouts as tears finally come pouring from his eyes.

Oh. _Oh._ That makes a lot of sense suddenly, and Victor feels awful for pushing the subject as soon as he realizes that he probably should have been able to connect the dots.

“I’m sorry, Yuuri,” he whispers, tucking his nose into Yuuri’s dark locks. It’s partially for the overstep and the ignorance, and partially out of sympathy for the way this surely must feel awful for him.

Yuuri hiccups a little sob against him, and Victor tries to pull him closer. It’s a bit of an awkward position, with Yuuri’s face pressed against his chest but a solid gap between where their legs rest on the bed. That makes sense, Victor supposes, with the state of the sheets and Yuuri’s concern over them, but he still wants to wrap him up as closely as possible.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asks softly into Yuuri’s hair.

“Just… hold me, please?” Yuuri’s voice comes out sounding very small, and he grips onto the back of Victor’s shirt tightly.

“Of course,” Victor answers immediately, and then moves himself even closer to Yuuri. He decides to finally disregard the stain entirely, and swings one leg behind Yuuri and the other in front of him, so that he can pull him more fully into his lap. He can feel Yuuri melt into the fuller embrace, and he holds him all the tighter for it.

Victor isn’t sure how long they sit together like that by the time that Yuuri’s cries quiet down. Once they do though, he seems much calmer, and Victor can only hope it had been as cathartic for him as it seemed. They sit in silence for a bit longer before Victor finally speaks again.

“Feeling any better, love?”

Yuuri lets out a long sigh, and seems to debate his answer, but eventually he shrugs. “Maybe a little? I feel gross, though. I should take a shower.”

“Want me to join you?” Victor asks, and he really doesn’t even mean for it to sound as flirty as it does, it’s just that he wants to keep caring for Yuuri in any way he can. That, and they do tend to share more showers than they don’t, so it’s almost a habitual question at this point. (It saves time and water, Victor jokingly insists sometimes, as they spend far longer in there than they ever would alone, doting on each other, or making out, or what have you. Yuuri never tries to argue that claim, probably because they’re equally guilty in causing its falsity.)

This time, though, Yuuri shakes his head softly. “I’d rather be alone today, sorry.” He sounds almost bashful at the admission.

“You have nothing to apologize for, darling. I understand,” Victor murmurs, pulling away a bit so Yuuri can get up if he wants to. He laughs just a little when Yuuri whines at the loss of touch. “Alone, huh?”

“In the _shower_, not all day,” Yuuri pouts.

Victor smiles and leans forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “How about I take care of the bed while you shower? And then we can have breakfast together?” he offers as a compromise.

Yuuri nods, and carefully climbs off of the bed, glancing down at the crimson stain again and frowning.

“It’s okay, Yuuri,” Victor reminds him gently, before he has the chance to needlessly apologize again. He has a brilliant idea suddenly, and reaches for Yuuri’s hand, pulling it toward his lips to kiss his knuckles. “I’ll miss you,” he tells him dramatically, putting on his biggest pout.

That finally brings a smile to Yuuri’s face, along with an adorable little snort of a laugh. Victor beams widely at the accomplishment. “You’re so sappy,” Yuuri laughs, grinning like he doesn’t mean it as a bad thing at all (and he doesn’t, Victor is positive).

“Can’t help it, I have the most adorable fiancé who I just love so much,” he reasons with a little shrug.

Yuuri rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling, and he leans in to kiss Victor quickly. “Love you, too,” he adds, before turning around to head into the bathroom.

Victor makes quick work of stripping the bed, tossing the unstained sheets into the laundry hamper and the fitted one onto the floor beside the bed. He stares at the red spot for a while, noticing that it has also seeped through to the mattress. He isn’t sure what to do about fixing that, but he’ll ask Yuuri later, considering he probably knows more about what to do. That means he can’t put new sheets on yet though, so he decides he’ll just have to get back to making breakfast.

In the kitchen, the half-cooked food in the pan has turned into a weird congealed blob, so Victor scrapes it into the trash. It hadn’t been anything special, anyway. He spends a while looking through the fridge and the cabinets for a plan B, and gets distracted until he eventually hears the shower turn off. Before he’s able to actually make a decision on breakfast, Yuuri appears in their bedroom doorway.

“Vitya?” he calls out, and Victor is worried again because the uneasiness has crept back into his voice a little.

He turns around to face Yuuri immediately, and takes several long strides until he’s standing in front of him. “Everything okay?” he asks softly.

Yuuri immediately looks down at the ground, but Victor can still see that his face is turning pink. “I, um… I just realized that I never, um… I never bought any pads here. Anything I had is back in Hasetsu.”

Victor glances around the room quickly, like it might make him spot a replacement. “Oh! Do we have… uh, anything else you could use..?” He realizes very quickly that he does not know nearly enough about this to be able to actually suggest something. If he’s honest, he’s not even sure _what_ Yuuri just asked for, the translation evading him.

Yuuri waves it off with his hand though, and blushes brighter as he admits, “I already stuck a bunch of tissue down there, but that’s only gonna last so long.”

“Do you want me to go out and get you something?” Victor offers, looking at Yuuri’s outfit choice and knowing it probably means he has no intentions of leaving the apartment today. He’s thrown on a baggy OU hoodie and a pair of loose black sweatpants, both of which he generally only wears when he’s staying home.

“I don’t even know exactly what to tell you to get, I’ve never gotten this stuff here,” Yuuri sounds a little more scared now, and Victor can’t really blame him, because this is yet another little cultural difference he probably hadn’t considered until now. Victor takes Yuuri’s hand to give it a comforting squeeze.

“We could both go, if you’d like?” Victor knows that Yuuri’s Russian is getting better every day, but he still gets a bit overwhelmed trying to look for things in stores alone when there’s just seas of Cyrillic everywhere. If Victor goes with him, he can at least help to translate.

Yuuri nods at the offer, and finally looks up to meet Victor’s gaze. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, voice teetering on the edge of tears.

“Of course,” Victor soothes, bringing Yuuri in for a hug. He’s not at all surprised when Yuuri immediately latches on as tightly as he can.

“I’m sorry if I’m all weird right now, this just… kind of sends my emotions all over the place,” Yuuri sighs against his shoulder.

“You’re fine, zolotse, you don’t need to feel sorry about that. I’ve got you,” Victor murmurs into his ear.

He feels Yuuri take several calming breaths, and rubs gentle figures into his back to help soothe him. He holds him like that until he seems to finally have his breathing back to normal, then pulls away only enough to look at him.

“Would you like to go now? We can pick something up for breakfast on the way home,” Victor suggests, doing his best to avoid admitting to what became of his attempt at a meal.

Yuuri nods lightly, but glances back at their bedroom for a moment. “Just… let me find some painkillers first.”

Victor watches Yuuri retreat towards the bathroom, noticing the way he reaches his arms around to rub at what must be a sore spot on his back. When he returns, Victor’s hand immediately finds its way to the small of Yuuri’s back, massaging gentle circles there. Yuuri leans into the touch, letting out a delighted little hum.

“Thank you,” he says again.

Victor simply kisses him as a response.

The trip to the store is an odd one, in which Victor realizes that this is one particular situation in which there is an entire set of words he never learned English translations for. (Though he learns that _tampon_ is apparently the same in every language he speaks, but also that this is entirely useless because Yuuri absolutely despises them.) After probably twice as long as it should take, they finally figure things out, through the power of odd hand gestures, a few texts to Mila, and Google translate. They leave with only the essentials: a couple boxes of pads, some better painkillers, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide to deal with the mess that is their bed, and a few bars of chocolate that Victor catches Yuuri staring at and insists on adding to their basket.

(“I’m sure your coach will understand,” he teases with a wink.)

Then, true to Victor’s promise, they pick up takeout from their favorite little café and head home to enjoy it together. Victor can’t even bring himself to care that it probably breaks both of their diet plans a little, he’s too set on pampering Yuuri.

After breakfast, Victor makes them both tea as Yuuri burrows into a blanket on the sofa, taking two hot water bottles with him. Yuuri graciously accepts the tea when Victor brings it over, and leans into his side once he’s sitting beside him, letting Victor wrap an arm around him. They sit in silence together, and it’s certainly not uncomfortable, but Victor can tell that Yuuri is far from relaxed, like he usually is when they cuddle like this.

“This isn’t exactly how I’d hoped to spend our rest day,” Yuuri says blankly after a long while, once he’s drained the last of the tea from his mug.

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” Victor asks, willing to do just about anything if it will help Yuuri.

“Make it go _away_,” he whines back unhelpfully, turning his face to bury it in Victor’s shoulder. Victor takes this as an opportunity to kiss the top of his head.

“I wish I could, darling.”

“I thought I was _done_ getting these,” Yuuri sighs frustratedly, pulling away from Victor and setting his empty mug on the coffee table before he wraps his arms around his knees and brings them to his chest.

“Are they supposed to… stop?” Victor feels a little dumb for not knowing much of anything about this, but somehow Yuuri has never talked about it before, and there hadn’t exactly ever been anyone else it would have made sense for Victor to have had such a conversation with.

“When you’re on T, yeah! Or, well, _most_ people stop getting them after a while. Some people’s even stop after the very first shot! But _apparently_ I don’t get to have that!” Yuuri is gesturing wildly, his frustration at the situation boiling over. “For so long I thought mine were never gonna go away, since I still got them for _years_ after I started T. They weren’t as often as before, but they were still always _awful!_ But then since last June I hadn’t gotten one at all until today! So I thought they were done, but obviously not! I don’t get it!”

Ah. That would explain why he’s never talked about this before. June had been early on in Victor’s stay in Hasetsu, and Yuuri had hardly even begun to open up to him about anything at that point. Now, it’s more than a year later, and they’re engaged and living together in St. Petersburg. Yuuri is much more open about anything and everything, and Victor is always receptive.

“I’m sorry, zolotse,” is all he can offer, along with reaching over and threading his fingers gently through Yuuri’s hair.

“And it’s just… it takes _so much_ out of me… makes me feel so damn _useless_…” Victor notices then that tears are back in Yuuri’s eyes, and he barely manages to pull him to his chest before he’s shaking as he begins to cry.

“I’ve got you, Yuuri, I’ve got you,” he soothes, rocking him just a bit.

“Have I mentioned it hurts? Because it _fucking hurts_, so bad!” Yuuri cries into Victor’s shoulder. “It feels like I got punched in my stomach, but from the inside!”

Victor grimaces a bit at the description, and hugs Yuuri a little tighter, hoping it might be of at least the tiniest comfort. He’s not quite sure how to make the physical pain go away, but he does have an idea of what to do for Yuuri’s hurt emotions. He waits until Yuuri has nearly stopped crying before he begins to speak. “Yuuri, have I ever told you about the man I’m in love with?”

Yuuri huffs out a little laugh, likely knowing where this is going, but he sniffles as he breathes back in. Victor pushes his hair back so he can kiss his forehead.

“He’s so wonderful. He’s gorgeous, and stunning, and handsome, and whether he’s wearing a designer suit I picked out for him or his oversized university hoodie, I swear I fall even harder at just the sight of him every single time. He’s the sweetest, kindest, gentlest person I’ve ever known, and I feel so lucky every day that I’m the one he’s chosen to share that with the most. He’s got the greatest sense of humor I’ve ever heard, and he’s absolutely brilliant, and he’s endlessly talented, and even when he’s all grumpy and tired in the mornings he brings so much joy to my life. And have I mentioned he’s the greatest skater I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching? He’s beaten _my_ world records! He’s been through so, so much in his life, but he’s made it through everything because he’s a million times stronger than anyone else I’ve ever met, anyone I ever _will_ meet. He could _never_ be useless. He inspires me every single day, in everything he does. I love him so much, and I can’t wait until the day I get to call him my husband.”

“_Vityaaa_,” Yuuri whines, and his face is bright pink, but he’s smiling so wide now that Victor knows it’s not actually a complaint.

“Yes, Yuurasha?” Victor grins at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Yuuri laughs, batting playfully at Victor’s chest, but then he hugs him closer again and presses his face there. “Thank you,” he says, much quieter, muffled by Victor’s shirt. “I love you, too.”

Victor buries his nose into Yuuri’s hair, like maybe he can make everything better if he removes every last bit of space between them.

“Where does it hurt, Yuuri?” Victor asks gently, after he’s simply held him like that for a long time.

Yuuri groans softly against his collarbone at the mention of his pain. “My whole stomach, and my lower back, especially right here.” He pulls away from Victor to sit up, brushing his hands along his own hips and towards his back, gripping at the muscles there.

Victor’s fingers find their way to the hem of Yuuri’s hoodie, and he pauses for just a moment to ask, “May I?”

When Yuuri nods, Victor pushes it up a bit, so that he can find his way to the soft spots and massage the pain away. Yuuri’s skin is very warm under his touch, and Victor remembers why when he bumps into one of the hot water bottles, which Yuuri has evidently buried under his shirt. Victor gently slides it further up so he can have better access to Yuuri’s sore muscles. He begins to knead into them with his knuckles, the way he’s done so many times after long days at the rink, and grins when Yuuri makes a noise somewhere between a hum and a moan. He sees the tension that’s been knitted into Yuuri’s brow start to fade, and gently nudges his shoulders until he’s lying down on the sofa, before wiggling his fingers back beneath him to continue the massage. Yuuri’s eyes have slipped shut and he seems just about blissed out under Victor’s touch.

Once he’s spent a while tending to Yuuri’s poor aching back, Victor wiggles down the sofa until his face is right in front of Yuuri’s midsection. He sneaks his fingers away from his back, pushing the front of his hoodie up this time to reveal where he’s hidden the second hot water bottle. He feels a little bad as he pushes it aside, but he’ll move it back without question if Yuuri asks. But he doesn’t, though, so Victor ducks in to press a soft kiss against the warm skin of Yuuri’s stomach.

Yuuri lets out a little giggle, and wriggles a bit beneath him, probably because the sensation tickles. Victor simply kisses him there again, and then again and again and again, moving in a circle to cover as much of his skin as possible.

“_Vitya_, you don’t have to do that, I’m all bloated and disgusting,” Yuuri pouts, suddenly sounding sad despite the joy that had been bubbling out of him just moments before, and oh, Victor will have _none_ of that.

He presses his lips to Yuuri’s stomach again, but this time he blows a loud raspberry against his skin until Yuuri is squirming and shrieking with laughter. It’s a risky move from his position, because Yuuri could easily have a literal knee-jerk reaction and end up whacking Victor in an array of painful places, but miraculously he doesn’t, and so it’s simply all worth it as a way to stop Yuuri’s train of thoughts. Victor moves back and waits until Yuuri has calmed down from the distraction before he speaks.

“You are _not_ disgusting, Yuuri,” Victor chides gently, propping his face up with his hands enough to look Yuuri in the eyes. “I mean it.”

Yuuri opens his mouth like he means to say something, but then snaps it shut, something like resigned acceptance washing over his face. Victor has been working hard together with him to help him stray away from self-depreciation, and much of the time it works. He understands why right now is a time that Yuuri is resorting back to it, but that doesn’t mean Victor will willingly let the love of his life say such mean things about himself.

“I’ll stop if you don’t want to be touched anymore, but I don’t want you to think it’s because I don’t want to be near you. I want to take care of you, however you’ll let me.”

Yuuri bites his lip for a second, and then nods his understanding. “Thank you,” he whispers after a moment.

“Of course, darling, I’m always here for you,” Victor hums softly, then ducks in to kiss his stomach again.

He hears Yuuri sniffle a bit, but when he looks up he sees him smiling. Yuuri brushes his hand against his cheek when their eyes meet.

“Do you even know how lucky you make me feel?” Yuuri asks quietly, the tears sparkling in his eyes clearly happy ones this time.

Victor smiles at him, then twists his head to the side to kiss his palm. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Yuuri’s smile grows even more at that, and he begins to stroke his fingers gently through Victor’s hair. He doesn’t even have to say anything else for Victor to know that his sour mood has lifted once more.

Victor lays his cheek against Yuuri’s stomach, reaching around with his hands again to massage at the muscles of his back some more. They’re both quiet for a minute before Victor speaks.

“Sorry for taking your water bottles away, I can move them back if you want.” He makes no attempt to move yet though, and he has no intentions to do so until Yuuri asks him to.

But he doesn’t, and Victor feels him shift as he probably is shaking his head. “I think I like your face better.”

Victor laughs, and turns a bit to nuzzle his nose against Yuuri’s skin, eliciting another bubbly little laugh from him. It’s definitely near the top of the list of Victor’s favorite sounds in the world (competing only with other Yuuri-sounds, and maybe a few from Makkachin, of course). Yuuri’s nerves that had surfaced again seem to be just about fully quieted now, but Victor has every intention to hold him until there is no longer even the tiniest shadow of fear left behind.

It’s a long time before Victor realizes that Yuuri has fallen asleep like that, because he’d simply been mesmerized by the gentle rising and falling of Yuuri’s stomach beneath his face. It seems that the chamomile tea has done a bit more than just soothe his cramps, like Yuuri had originally requested it for. A nap probably couldn’t hurt him, though.

Victor gently sits up, careful not to wake his sleeping beauty, and smiles when he sees the relaxed look on Yuuri’s face. He looks so peaceful, like the aches and the pains and the worry from before have finally, _finally_ completely left him. Even if it’s only in his sleep, it makes Victor happy to see that Yuuri is finally fully relaxed for the first time all day.

Though he’s a little tempted to lie back down and join Yuuri in his nap, he’s suddenly struck with an idea he can’t possibly drop once he has it. Instantly, he’s up off the sofa and setting to tidying the apartment, wanting to have everything nice for Yuuri by the time he wakes up.

He begins with the sofa they’ve been sharing, digging the water bottles out from where they’d wound up stuffed between the cushions. They’re barely warm anymore, but Victor doesn’t want to wake Yuuri up by pressing them too-hot back into their original places, so he doesn’t bother with refilling them, simply empties them and sets them to dry on the kitchen counter for the time being. He goes back and fixes the blanket that had managed to get tangled up near Yuuri’s legs, gently pulling it away to shake it out before carefully tucking it around Yuuri’s sleeping body, and then he lightly picks the glasses off his face and sets them on the coffee table. This is a moment when he’s quite thankful that Yuuri is such a deep sleeper.

Next he sets to the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from their late breakfast. He disposes of the takeout containers, and then washes the dishes they’d used, making sure to also scrub the remaining gunk from the pan he’d begun breakfast in so long ago now. Already the room looks a little brighter, and he’s hopeful that it might lift Yuuri’s spirits when he awakens.

Once he’s finished there, he heads into the bedroom, taking a cloth and the hydrogen peroxide with him to try and clean the stain how Yuuri had described while they were shopping. It takes him some time, but eventually he manages to get it out. He doesn’t have as much luck with the stain on the sheets as he’d had with the mattress, but they have others, so it’s not the end of the world. He begins to shuffle through the linen closet, but then he remembers Yuuri’s comment about dark sheets from earlier. None of the ones they already have are very dark, and would easily show another stain. He folds everything back up and closes the door, deciding instead to search for some paper.

He leaves a note for Yuuri on the table next to his glasses, along with a glass of water and the bottle of painkillers they’d just bought.

_Hope you’re feeling better by the time you’re seeing this!_  
_I went out to get something, but I’ll be back soon. Call me if you need anything!_  
_ ♡ Vitya_

Before he leaves, he presses a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, careful not to disturb him from his sleep. He looks to where Makkachin is lying on the floor by the opposite end of the sofa.

“Take care of him for me while I’m gone, Makka,” he instructs, reaching over to ruffle the fur behind his ears. Makkachin stares at him intently, as if he must perfectly understand Victor’s request. Victor holds back a laugh as he watches Makkachin carefully climb onto the sofa, gently snuggling up against Yuuri, seeming to know not to wake him up. He’s clearly in good hands.

* * *

The second time Yuuri wakes up for the day, it’s to the feeling of an armful of poodle where he’d last held an armful of fiancé. He’s a little groggy, and the pain is starting to radiate through his back again, but it’s not the _worst_ nap he’s ever taken. Makkachin seems to sense that he’s woken up, and carefully climbs down to the floor so that Yuuri can move. He sits up slowly and stretches, groaning a little as it reaches _those_ muscles in his back.

He glances across the room to the big window that looks out to the west, and even though it’s fuzzy without his glasses, he notices that the sun is already getting low in the sky, starting to paint the clouds with pastel pinks and oranges. How long had he slept for?

Before he can even think to look for Victor, the smell of food cooking hits him and he realizes. _It’s dinner time_. He’d spent almost the entire day sleeping. Maybe this _is_ one of the worse naps he’s taken. Shame starts to curl in his stomach, building on the ache that’s already thrumming there. He hadn’t wanted to just waste the entire day; they had so few days off as they were getting deeper into the season. Victor had probably gotten bored of laying with him, and had had to spend the entire day alone. As much as Yuuri knows it’s not really his fault, he still feels guilty for it.

“Yuuri! You’re up!” Victor shouts excitedly from the kitchen, breaking through the fog of Yuuri’s thoughts.

“Mmm,” Yuuri mumbles, still a little stuck in his unpleasant ruminating.

“Are you feeling any better?” Victor asks him gently, walking over and sitting beside him on the sofa.

Yuuri just shrugs, because something in him is begging him not to bother Victor with his haywire emotions again. He knows he shouldn’t be afraid, that he’s talked to Victor about much worse, that they’ve promised to be open and trusting with one another, but the nagging thought that he’s already annoyed Victor with his sleeping isn’t exactly helping him want to share.

Victor, though, wonderful man that he is, seems to still sense that something is wrong, even without words, and he leans over to kiss Yuuri softly on the cheek. Yuuri can’t help the little smile that finds its way onto his face, sighing as he feels it break a tiny crack in the ice of his feelings.

“Dinner is almost ready,” Victor supplies, clearly trying to give Yuuri an out if he doesn’t want to talk about what’s on his mind.

Yuuri nods, but he’s not really hungry. The sick feeling sloshing in his stomach doesn’t exactly lend well to that. Of course, that doesn’t help his guilt, not when he knows Victor spent time making dinner for the two of them and now he doesn’t even want it. After already spending the whole day sleeping. _What kind of lousy-_

“Hey, hey hey hey, sweetheart, shhh,” Victor is soothing suddenly, and Yuuri feels him wipe away tears he hadn’t even realized were in his eyes. “Would you like to talk about it?” It’s a genuine offer, Yuuri can tell, not just empty words to make him feel like he has to say anything he doesn’t want to. Victor is always so good about that, and Yuuri loves him for it. That little thought clears through the fog just enough for Yuuri to finally open up.

“I wasted the entire day,” he groans, pressing his face into Victor’s shoulder. “It kind of feels awful.” That doesn’t quite fully cover the anxieties he’s been fretting over, but it’s a start.

“Oh, Yuuri, I’m sorry, you seemed like you needed the sleep, I didn’t want to wake you.” Victor’s apologetic voice almost hurts, like he thinks it’s _his_ fault Yuuri was so tired.

“No, no, it’s not your fault… I’m the one who-”

“Yuuri,” Victor cuts him off quickly but gently, “it’s no one’s fault, okay? You were tired, and today was a rest day. You got some much-needed rest. That’s not a bad thing.”

“But you were all alone all day! We were supposed to spend time together! Weren’t you bored?”

“We still have the evening to spend,” Victor counters, and he squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder as he adds, “Plus, I got some time to clean up around here, and I got started on that book I got last week. I wasn’t bored.”

Yuuri closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to take in Victor’s reasoning. He’s right. Yuuri had needed the rest, and they don’t always _have_ to do _everything_ together. Yuuri knows this, logically, but somewhere between his grogginess and his emotions turned on their axes, that logic had gotten a little lost. He just needs to clear that fog, upright those emotions. Then it will be alright.

When Yuuri finally opens his eyes again, he’s calmed down a bit. His thoughts are swimming a little less, though he still feels somewhat dazed and his stomach hasn’t quite settled yet. He knows that can’t really go away quickly, though, as it tends to be his constant state during the first few days of his periods. So he accepts the slightly calmer thoughts as the best compromise his body will give him, and he pulls back from Victor so he can get up.

He squints as he tries to figure out where his glasses have gone, but Victor beats him to it and reaches forward to grab them from the coffee table. Yuuri puts them on, the world finally coming back into focus. There’s Victor, smiling softly at him, not a hint of anger or disappointment on his face. Makkachin is on the armchair across the room, lounging lazily but watching them both carefully, looking ready to come over at any moment, should they need him.

Yuuri notices then that there is a glass of water on the table, as well as the new bottle of painkillers, and a little note from Victor.

“Oh yeah,” Victor must have caught Yuuri’s line of sight, “I went out for a bit earlier, I didn’t want you to worry if you woke up and I was gone.”

Yuuri nods, plucking up the little paper and running his finger over where Victor had scribbled a little heart and his name. He turns to Victor then, leaning over to kiss him briefly. “Thank you, Vitya,” he says, not for the first time today, because every single time Victor has been so patient with him has felt like a blessing.

“Of course, darling,” Victor tells him easily, and _oh_, Yuuri loves him.

He takes two of the pills, thankful he doesn’t have to get up to search for them, and slowly rises to his feet. An involuntary little whine escapes his mouth as the soreness shoots up his spine, making him squeeze his eyes shut and rub at the back of his neck. Not even a second later, he feels Victor drop a kiss there, and even though it doesn’t ease the pain, it does bring a smile to his face.

When he opens his eyes again, he notices what Victor had briefly mentioned before – everything is just a bit tidier than it had been before his impromptu nap. The extra throw blanket is folded neatly on the back of the armchair, the stray books and magazines that had been on the table have found their way back to their proper places on the bookshelf, and it even looks like Victor must have taken care of the dust that had been starting to build up in the corners and on the windowsill. Yuuri can already feel the cleaner environment lending its way to cleaning the smog from his brain, and he’s hit with the realization that this must have been Victor’s goal.

“I love you so much,” rushes from Yuuri’s lips as he turns to Victor, and he feels entirely overwhelmed by the notion that Victor had done this just to make him feel better. He’s pretty sure there are tears in his eyes again.

“Love you, too,” Victor answers in return, and then he wraps Yuuri in a gentle hug, but Yuuri wastes no time in latching onto him as tightly as he can, without even much of a conscious intent. It suddenly hits him how touch starved his erratic emotions have made him. When Victor responds in turn and Yuuri feels that sweet, sweet pressure of Victor’s strong arms pulling him impossibly close, he thinks he just might melt.

Just as Yuuri has decided he would very much like to stay in this exact spot for the rest of his life, the high-pitched beeping of the kitchen timer rudely interrupts them.

“That would be dinner,” Victor murmurs, though he makes no effort to pull away.

Yuuri just whines indignantly into his shoulder in response. He doesn’t want to move, and he still feels too woozy to be hungry anyway.

Victor pets his hair in sympathy, and _oh_, does that feel nice. Yuuri quickly lifts his head to lean into the touch as much as he can. He hears Victor laugh at him a little, but it’s very affectionate.

The insistent beeping does not take long to become grating, though, and Victor decides he needs to go put an end to it. Yuuri can’t stop himself from making a very undignified sound of disappointment when Victor slips away. Even if he knows he wouldn’t have been able to stand the sound much longer, he feels very cold the instant that Victor’s arms are gone.

Yuuri trails after him slowly, wincing when the movement reminds him of how much his entire body _hurts_. It starts right in his center, a dull but persistent thrumming, stretching out over his hips, up the columns of his back, all the way to his neck, where it prickles and stings. He can feel the telltale pressure of a headache starting to form at his temples. He only hopes the painkillers can successfully kick in before it grows any more.

He’d originally had every intention of helping Victor set the table, of doing _something_ to help after all that Victor has done for him today, but when he gets to the kitchen, it’s all he can do to immediately sit down at the table and rip his glasses off so he can dig the heels of his palms into his face. Apparently just thinking about his oncoming headache had been enough to make it come on full-force. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to breathe deeply, hoping it will alleviate some of the pain. He almost doesn’t even notice the sound of bowls and spoons being set on the table in front of him.

“Oh, Yuurasha,” Victor coos at him sadly, and Yuuri feels him press a gentle kiss into his hair. It ends up eliciting a choked little cry from him, the way it makes him feel so cared for. “Can I do something to help?”

Yuuri shrugs, still not moving his hands from his face, afraid of the impending pain that will surely result from a loss of the pressure he’s holding against his eyes. As much as he loves how enthused Victor is to help him, he’s not even sure what to ask him for. Sometimes it just hurts and hurts and hurts until it doesn’t and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop it.

“Do you want me to fill up the water bottles for you?”

_Oh_. Right. Sometimes there are a _few_ things that can help a _little_. Yuuri almost laughs, amazed that Victor seems to have picked up on what to do in just hours when he had forgotten something so obvious himself, after dealing with this for more than half his life. He gives Victor a short nod, careful not to shake his head too much and upset whatever precise balance he’s managed to achieve that is making the pain start to dwindle.

The next couple minutes are filled with soft sounds; Victor’s bare feet padding on the kitchen floor, clicking of the stove as he sets water to boil, gentle panting as Makkachin comes in to see what’s going on. It’s blessedly soothing, enough to make it easier for Yuuri to regulate his breathing. Somewhere between that and the painkillers finally setting in, he can feel the aches start to subside by the time Victor returns, offering the warm bottles to him.

At last, he takes his hands from his eyes, very slowly, endlessly thankful when the sharpest of the pains seem to stay away. He carefully puts his glasses back on and then takes the bottles from Victor, slipping them into his hoodie and shifting oddly in his chair until he finds a perfect position to balance them both in place. As he does this, he watches Victor ladle soup into both of their bowls, and his stomach flips at the thought of eating.

Victor sits in his seat once he’s finally finished tending to Yuuri, quickly digging into his food, while Yuuri just watches and pokes at his own. It’s not that he feels like he’s actually going to be sick, even if he does eat, but it’s just enough that any sort of food seems completely unappetizing. Maybe he’ll at least try to have some of the broth. He settles on this, slowly and carefully bringing his spoon from his bowl to his mouth, trying not to spill it all over himself in the odd position that has him angled just a bit too far from the table. He only manages this a few times before he decides it’s fairly pointless, and slips the spoon back into his bowl, so he can pull his hands back and clutch lightly at the water bottle situated on his stomach.

Several minutes into their meal, Yuuri catches Victor sending him a look that’s somewhere between confused and sympathetic, like he’s trying to figure out what to say about how he’s most definitely noticed Yuuri barely eating a thing. It starts to spur some of those awful thoughts from before again; about how shitty it is that Yuuri can’t even make himself eat the food that Victor had spent time making for them. How Victor is probably looking at him like that because he’s offended at the notion that Yuuri refuses to eat what he’s made. How it makes him look horribly ungrateful, when that couldn’t be further from the truth. Somewhere, far in the back of his mind, he knows this is just his anxiety talking, that Victor understands he isn’t feeling well, that there’s no good reason for him to be worried about this, and yet-

The feeling of Victor’s foot gently brushing against his ankle draws Yuuri from his spiraling thoughts. He blinks, noticing that Victor has finished all of his dinner now, meanwhile his own bowl remains nearly full, probably grown entirely cold. How long had he been zoned out?

“Yuuri, if you’re not feeling well I can put it away for you to have later,” Victor offers softly.

Yuuri opens his mouth, ready to say something, to insist that he’s fine, to apologize for his lack of appetite, to ask how Victor can understand just what’s wrong, but he can’t find the words. Victor continues to soothingly stroke at his calf, clearly trying to offer as much comfort as possible despite being unable to reach Yuuri with his hands. It’s just enough to make the anxious whispers mostly die in his throat. So he shuts his mouth again, and nods lightly.

When Victor stands and takes Yuuri’s bowl to put it in the fridge though, one little worry manages to sneak back and he can’t help the words from spilling out of his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

Even if he knows it’s not his fault, it’s the only thing that seems like it’s going to finally wash all of the guilt away.

But Victor comes back and kisses his forehead sweetly, and assures him, “It’s alright, Yuuri. It’s not your fault. _I’m_ sorry you’re feeling so bad, I wish I could make it go away.”

“_That_ is not _your_ fault,” Yuuri counters, even if he does understand that Victor means it in a sympathetic way. He can’t help but feel like he needs to make sure he cares for Victor in whatever way he can, especially after he’s been on the receiving end of Victor’s nurturance all day.

“True, but still,” Victor sighs, bringing a hand up and slowly beginning to brush it through Yuuri’s hair. That finally brings a conclusion to their little hiccup, and with it, a lull to Yuuri’s anxieties.

They stay like that for quite some time; Yuuri slouched awkwardly in the chair, stretching his head towards Victor’s touch, while Victor stands behind him, combing his fingers through the long strands of Yuuri’s hair and rubbing gentle circles into his scalp, like he’s trying to knead out every last ache that’s there. If Yuuri lets himself get lost in the feeling enough, maybe it will even work.

It doesn’t take long for those tiny touches to become little but a tease, and Yuuri decides quickly that he needs _more_, and _now_, his desperate craving for touch coming to a head.

“Hold me, Vitya,” he all but whines, reaching up to grab for Victor’s hands to pull them down around himself.

Victor huffs out a little laugh, teasing, “Right here in the kitchen?”

Yuuri smacks at his hand softly, finally turning out of his slouched position to face Victor, glaring at him a bit. He can’t keep the growing smile off his face though, and Victor’s mirrored one makes it even less possible to so much as pretend to be mad at him.

“Come here,” Victor murmurs gently, stepping back from the chair to open his arms for Yuuri.

If he weren’t in all kinds of pain, Yuuri would be up in half a second flat and flinging himself into that wonderful embrace. It really only takes a tiny bit longer than that with the circumstances, as he carefully gets up from the chair and stretches his sore back for a moment before pressing his entire body into his fiancé’s warm hold. He can’t hug him back, because he’s awkwardly cradling the water bottles in place on either side of himself, so instead he just buries his face into Victor’s chest, making him laugh as he rubs his nose back and forth. Victor squeezes him so, so tightly, obviously having picked up on Yuuri’s desperation, and _oh_, is it lovely. Yuuri closes his eyes to bask in the warmth.

It’s funny, for as much as he’s never been a touchy person, how something about all the emotions that run wild when he’s on his periods have always made him absolutely touch starved. Before today, though, he’d never really had much of a way to ask anyone to act on it. It had always felt too awkward to ask his family or his friends to just _hold_ him, so he generally avoided it and just let the feelings build up inside. But since Victor has come into his life, he’s opened up so much to touches, on a much more regular basis, at least if they’re from Victor. He honestly can hardly think of a day in the near-year that they’ve been together where they _hadn’t_ touched, save for when they were not on the same continent. So he supposes that it really only makes sense that today of all days he’s so desperate to be held by him.

“Do you want to cuddle and watch a movie?” Victor suggests after a moment, when it’s finally starting to become obvious that this is a bit of a challenge to continue while standing up.

Yuuri nods, effectively rubbing his face against Victor once more. It elicits another laugh from him, before he gently pulls away to walk over towards the shelf that hosts their movie collection. Victor chooses one when Yuuri admits he really doesn’t care what they watch since he’ll probably hardly pay attention to it, sure to be too mesmerized by Victor’s touch to care. Yuuri smiles when Victor shows him the DVD case, one with a familiar cartoon dog on the front of it, and happily tells him (not for the first time, but Yuuri can’t blame him) about how it was one of his favorites as a child. It’s perfect for tonight honestly, very calm and happy, and even though it’s in Russian, they’ve watched it a couple times, so it won’t be the end of the world if Yuuri doesn’t pay much attention to it and gets distracted from the subtitles. He guesses that’s probably why Victor has chosen it.

Their movie selected, Yuuri begins to make his way towards the sofa, but stops short when Victor catches him lightly by the arm. He turns to him with a look of confusion, but Victor tugs him softly in the direction of their bedroom.

“I think cuddling in bed sounds comfier, don’t you?” Victor asks with a little tilt of his head, and Yuuri swears it sounds like he has some kind of ulterior motive, but he can’t figure for the life of him what it might be. He can’t disagree with Victor, though, as having the whole space of their king-sized bed to stretch out and cuddle on sounds incredible, so he follows him regardless of whatever secret plan he’s got.

It’s hard to miss, honestly, when they cross the threshold to their room, and it instantly clicks why it had sounded like Victor really wanted Yuuri to come in here. Much like the main area of their apartment, it would appear that Victor had spent some of that time while Yuuri was asleep cleaning their bedroom. Their things on the nightstands have been straightened out, the few scattered pieces of clothing from the floor are in the hamper, Makkachin’s toys are all neatly in their basket beside his bed under the window, it all really looks immaculate. The biggest draw, though, is right at the center of their room. On the bed, where this morning there had been white sheets forever ruined by a deep red stain (and then later no sheets, but that same stain seeped into the mattress, as Yuuri remembers seeing with a bit of horror after his shower), instead are the softest looking sheets Yuuri has ever seen, in a dark navy shade. Victor has never owned navy sheets. Which means…

“You got us new sheets?” Yuuri asks quietly, still processing just what that means.

“Yeah, the other ones didn’t want to come clean,” Victor explains simply, and Yuuri is thankful there’s no malice in his voice, since he still feels a little bad about that. “Obviously we have more, but they’re all light colors, and you said something about wishing you’d gotten dark ones, so…” Victor ends his sentence with a little shrug, like this isn’t such a ridiculously sweet (if unconventional) gesture.

He’d remembered such a tiny little thing Yuuri had said in panic this morning, when his brain had been focused in on what could probably be considered an insignificant detail, but Victor clearly didn’t treat Yuuri’s concern as such. He’s done nothing but take every last one of Yuuri’s ridiculous worries seriously all day, going entirely out of his way to care for him and comfort him, and _oh_, it’s so much, Yuuri isn’t sure what to do with the wave of feelings that hit him at these thoughts. He feels tears building in his eyes, happy ones this time, and there’s nothing he can do short of surging forward to press a deep kiss to Victor’s lips, finally disregarding the water bottles and letting them drop to the floor as he flings his arms around Victor’s neck to pull him down more. He feels Victor’s smile grow against his lips as the kiss continues, until they’re both smiling too much to go on any longer.

“Have I ever told you I love you?” Yuuri asks breathlessly, so smitten over such a tiny gesture.

“Once or twice,” Victor grins cheekily, and Yuuri laughs and shoves at his shoulder lightly in response. “I love you, too,” he adds more genuinely, pressing another quick kiss to Yuuri’s lips.

As much as Yuuri would like to continue hanging off of Victor and gazing into his eyes all night, a sharp pain shoots through his center again and he automatically pulls his hands back so he can wrap his arms around himself tightly. He bends to pick the water bottles back up from where they’d fallen, groaning when it makes the pain in his back flare up as well. By the time he stands up, Victor is visibly fretting over him again, and Yuuri can easily figure it’s because of the combination of his distressed sounds and whatever pained look is certainly painted across his face. He tries for a smile, to let Victor know he’s sort of okay, but he knows it probably isn’t very convincing.

When he goes to slip the bottles back under his shirt, he realizes that they’ve actually lost most of their heat since they were last filled before dinner. He sighs, pulling them out again, but before he can head into the kitchen to deal with them himself, he’s stopped by Victor pressing a hand softly to his chest.

“Let me take care of them?” he offers, reaching the other hand out to take them. Yuuri laughs a little, impressed at how Victor has managed to figure out exactly what the problem is from such a small cue, and he shrugs and relinquishes them.

Victor retreats for the kitchen (not without a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead first, of course), and Yuuri begins to settle into the freshly made bed. He practically buries himself in the new sheets, savoring how soft and cozy they feel. They remind him of an old t-shirt, all light and smooth and absolutely perfect for sleeping in. Victor had done an excellent job selecting them.

While he waits, he pushes all the pillows together, creating a little horseshoe-shaped nest out of them, and lies across it horizontally, saving the perfect spot for Victor to snuggle into, where Yuuri can rest his head in his lap. Yuuri closes his eyes for just a minute, which is apparently just long enough for a surprise Makkachin attack. Yuuri hadn’t even heard his footsteps on the wood floor, but the next thing he knows, he feels the bed bounce and then his face is being covered in poodle kisses. It sends him into a fit of giggles that almost makes him forget about how much everything hurts.

This is how Victor finds him; pinned to the bed by their dog and laughing so hard he’s nearly crying. Yuuri is so preoccupied that he doesn’t even notice the bed dip again, but then suddenly Makkachin is being pushed off of him and he’s being held tightly in Victor’s arms, and then he’s being _tickled_, and laughter turns into shrieking until Yuuri is completely red in the face and has to push Victor off so he can breathe. It’s a truly blissful distraction.

When they’ve both come down, Victor helps Yuuri to fix the pillow nest they’ve destroyed, and then reaches over to grab what he’d left on the nightstand before he’d thrown himself at Yuuri. First are the water bottles, which are so wonderfully hot that Yuuri has to stifle a moan when they immediately give him noticeable relief from the pain. He’s barely finished adjusting them when Victor is passing a warm mug towards him.

“Ginger tea,” he explains as Yuuri takes it from him. “I thought it might help you feel better but not make you so tired like the chamomile did this morning.”

Yuuri smiles and nods, almost overwhelmed again at all the little things Victor has been paying attention to and acting on all day. Yuuri takes a small sip of the tea, sighing happily as the heat soothes him from the inside out. Somehow it’s a lot easier to get down than the soup had been.

“I was thinking,” Victor cuts into Yuuri’s thoughts after a moment, but he pauses and frowns a bit.

“About?”

“I don’t- If you don’t want to, we don’t have to, but… I was thinking about how much it seems like you’ve been hurting today, and I was thinking we might take another rest day tomorrow.”

Yuuri just stares at him for a second, before a breathy little, “_Oh_,” escapes his lips.

It’s… a _lot_, to think about everything that tiny little idea implies. Yuuri gets the sense that Victor realizes this, given the careful way he’d phrased it. Still, that doesn’t entirely stop the anxious spiral from coming on.

The first insidious thought that creeps its way in tells him that this is some kind of judgement of his character, that this is Victor doubting him, that he thinks Yuuri is suddenly _incapable_ of his regular activities just because he’s on his period, that he’s lesser for it. Another voice chimes in to insist that he must be right, though, given how useless Yuuri has proven to be all day. He’s spent all of it sleeping and in pain, he couldn’t even help put dishes on the table or just _eat_ the food Victor had made. How can he possibly think he’s capable of landing a quad flip come morning? He’s just so damn-

_No._

Yuuri feels like he almost needs to yell at his own brain, because logically, he _knows_ none of that is true. He _knows_ that every last thing Victor has done for him today has been fueled by absolutely nothing besides love and care, right down to this suggestion, _knows_ that Victor has the utmost faith in him always. He _knows_ that he could skate if he wants to, _knows_ that he _has_ skated on his periods before. He’s slowly starting to accept that his sleeping through the whole day was alright, that it was just something his body needed, that it doesn’t make him lazy or ungrateful or whatever other horrible things his anxiety is pushing on him.

He has to close his eyes, and breathe deeply for a moment, and run over a little mantra in his head, but eventually he feels himself gaining back control. 

When he’s finally calm enough, the logical thoughts slowly begin to sink their way in, and with them comes some reasoning. Like the notion that Victor is… not really wrong, about how another day of rest might be beneficial. And how he certainly had not meant to sound doubtful of Yuuri’s abilities because of the suggestion. How he had only thought of it out of concern over Yuuri’s wellbeing.

There’s also the reminder that even if he _has_ forced himself to skate during his periods in the past, especially in those first couple of days when he’s in the most pain, he has absolutely regretted it, every single time. He’s always just _hated_ to ask for special treatment. So he’d forced himself to skate, had bitten his tongue and pushed his body much further than he should have in such a condition, and then cried about how much it hurt in private.

But now, here, with Victor, not only does he feel like he can really finally ask for that time off, but it dawns on him that he doesn’t even have to _ask_, because Victor has already paid such careful attention, and _he’s_ the one reaching out, because he knows Yuuri is afraid to. Because Yuuri gets quiet when he’s anxious, keeps things to himself, even when he knows he shouldn’t. And Victor _knows_ this now, is learning how to _help_ now, has only been getting better and better the longer they’ve been together.

Yuuri still isn’t quite sure how to deal with the odd mixture of emotions stirring in him as the frustration and anger and self-doubt that had bubbled up first are steadily quashed by the grounding reminders he’s finally managed to pull from his mind. They’ve concocted a thick and heavy coating in his throat, one that’s hard to swallow down, even if he tries to use the tea to help.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to overstep, and obviously you know this better than I do, but I just hate to see you hurting, lyubov moya.”

It’s only when Victor speaks, so concerned and apologetic, that Yuuri fully realizes the feeling in his throat is because tears have started to well in his eyes again.

He shakes his head, though, like that might push away Victor’s concern, because he _hasn’t_ overstepped, just made a suggestion; one that Yuuri thinks he just might take, at that. Yuuri’s emotions just always run so high on his periods, making him so hypersensitive that the tiniest thing will set them spiraling. That’s not Victor’s fault. Yuuri knows it’s not his own, either, that it’s just how things are, but it’s still hard to not feel self conscious about it.

In lieu of speaking, Yuuri pushes his face into Victor’s shoulder. He knows he needs to tell Victor about his decision, to reassure that he hasn’t said anything wrong, but getting words past that horrible film in his throat is a task far too great at the moment. Victor seems to understand the meaning in his gesture, though, because Yuuri can feel his body relax against him, and then he’s bringing his arms up to hold him, careful not to let the mug in between them spill. The soft hug is a wonderful comfort, and bit by bit, Yuuri feels it helping to dissolve the coating from his throat.

It takes some time, but eventually Yuuri’s breathing feels normal again, his throat relaxes, and he’s slowly able to find his words.

“I think… I think that’s a good idea,” he says it very softly, barely moving his face away from where it’s still pressed into Victor’s shirt.

“You don’t have to agree just because I-”

“No, no, I really think so.”

“Are you sure? You seemed upset, I’m sorry if it was what I said-”

“_Vitya._” Yuuri finally pulls back enough to look at Victor, sending him a genuine smile when he does. “You said what you did because you care about me. My anxiety just… blew it out of proportion for a second. I’m okay now, really.” He really is feeling better, and it’s for that reason that he doesn’t want to go any further into it, for fear of waking any of those thoughts back up. Victor understands though, he’s sure, because this is far from the first time he’s kept his explanations short for that very reason.

“If you’re sure then.” Victor finally sounds like all his worry is gone, and Yuuri is glad.

“I am. Thank you for paying so much attention today, you really are amazing,” Yuuri whispers in adoration.

“Oh, sweetheart, of course,” Victor murmurs, then leans in to kiss Yuuri’s cheek softly.

“_You’re_ not taking the day off though, are you?” The little concern hits Yuuri suddenly, and he can’t help but voice it.

Victor cracks a smile at him, “What kind of coach would I be if I didn’t stay with my very best skater to take care of him while he’s not feeling well?”

Yuuri laughs, “A normal one? Most coaches don’t live with their skaters. And if they _do_, I don’t think it’s because they’re engaged to them.”

Victor just rolls his eyes at that. “_Well_, then what kind of _fiancé_ would I be if I left my poor darling _fiancé_ all alone when he’s hurting?”

“You don’t _have_ to-”

Victor pushes a gentle finger to his lips, shushing him, “Shh, I _want_ to take care of you, Yuuri, if you’ll let me.”

Yuuri sighs, and does his best to ignore the heat he feels blooming on his cheeks. “I just hate to keep you from your practice.”

“We’ve both still got plenty of time before our first competitions, and we’re both in very good places for this point in the season. We can afford another day off. Rest is an important part of skating, too.”

Victor says that a lot, especially when Yuuri’s stress levels are high and it’s hard for him to remember that sometimes the best thing he can do is just _slow down_. It’s really a reminder he needs sometimes, and he’s forever grateful that Victor is always so patient with him about it. He also knows it’s a reminder that Victor had had a hard time giving himself before he’d found Yuuri, and that it’s certainly something they are both able to help one another with.

It’s at this that Yuuri finally concedes, knowing there’s clearly no talking Victor out of it. Besides, it’s not like he _minds_ being taken care of by him, quite the opposite, in fact.

“Okay! _You_ get to tell Yakov we’re not coming in, though.”

Victor just laughs at that, all warm and soft. It’s such a lovely sound, and it makes Yuuri very much want to stop talking about their plans to play hookey and instead just bury himself in that joy that’s pouring out of his fiancé for the rest of the night.

Yuuri puts on his best fake pout and bats lightly at Victor’s shoulder, insisting, “Go get your laptop and start the movie, you promised me cuddles.”

Victor beams widely at him, with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh, so _demanding_ now, are you?”

“Yes. I’m very needy,” Yuuri deadpans.

That earns him another little laugh, and a kiss on the cheek, before Victor is crawling off the bed and heading over to where his laptop sits on top of their dresser. Yuuri hides his smile into his mug, busying himself with his tea while he waits. It’s not very hot anymore, just a little whisper of warmth, but the ginger is still very soothing, and he sighs happily at the feeling.

As he’s finishing his tea, Victor comes to set up his laptop and start the movie playing. He sits up in that perfect spot that Yuuri had hoped he would, and the temptation to lie down in his lap is all too great, so he doesn’t even bother denying himself. He sets his empty mug on the nightstand and quickly curls up on his side so he can press his cheek to the top of Victor’s thigh, before grabbing at Victor’s hands and pulling them until they’re in his hair. He can’t even bring himself to care about whatever embarrassing little noises of pleasure he makes as Victor begins to absentmindedly twist the locks with his fingers.

Just as they’re both finally settling, Makkachin comes back from wherever he’d gone to hide when Victor had stolen Yuuri from him, and hops onto the bed to curl up right in front of Yuuri. He wiggles until he’s conformed himself to the curve of Yuuri’s body, pressing the hot water bottle even closer to him. Yuuri knows it’s probably just because Makkachin enjoys the warmth, but the thought that he, too, is doing all he can to comfort Yuuri has those happy tears springing to his eyes again.

He’s got his whole world right here; Victor cradling his head so tenderly in his lap, Makkachin curled up sleepily in his arms. They’ve teamed up together to make everything that’s been hurting, everything that’s been worrying, all just melt away. He doesn’t even end up paying attention to the movie at all, just as he’d suspected, because the feeling of Victor’s fingers carding through his hair is so entirely blissful that he can’t focus on a single other thing.

When he falls asleep that night (after _finally_ getting to spend that much needed time together with Victor), it’s to the feeling of cool sheets against his skin, to Victor’s warm arms encircling him from behind, and to Makkachin curled up at his chest. His body is still a bit sore all over, but it’s fading gradually, and he’s so completely surrounded by love and care that he can’t help but give into the soft pull of sleep, until he’s wrapped up deeply in it, all warm and safe and cozy like the blankets around them.

**Author's Note:**

> _thank you for reading my self indulgent fluff_
> 
> _and_, extra special thank you to everyone in the wwv server who sprinted with me or helped me sort out what the hell i was saying with this fic or _whatever_, y’all are lovely and i’m so glad to have joined you <3 this is actually the first fic i’m posting since i joined!
> 
> <strike>(for anyone curious i _promise_ i am still working on WYKIIL! i know it’s been forever but i _will_ finish it! next chapter is well in the works!)</strike>
> 
> kudos and comments are always much appreciated! <3 and if you’d like, come say hi on [tumblr](https://opalescentlesbiian.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/opallesbiian)!


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